


Subject: about time you replied

by aurics



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Office, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurics/pseuds/aurics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything is simple in Kenma's eyes; his job, his preference in games, his friendship with Kuroo and his complete avoidance of company dinners. </p><p>The one time he decides to attend, it is met with disastrous results. Or not.</p><p>Office!AU in which Kuroo is a silly drunk and Kenma is not as dense as many people think he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subject: about time you replied

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sodappend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodappend/gifts).



> To my recipient: there were many paths to choose from when I wrote this fic, and I hope the one I chose is to your liking! I've always thought of Kuroken as a very relaxed, laid-back pairing, with both of them relying on each other for support and comfort. I'm making the fic sound a lot sappier than it actually is now haha. Enjoy! Happy holidays :)

Just like everything else, there are pros and cons of working at a creative company.

 

Con number one: despite the relatively flexible working hours, you also end up doing more work than what you probably signed up for. Kenma can get used to the standard nine-to-five he was first introduced to at Nekoma Inc., but that gradually turned into ten-to-seven, eight-to-six, or something else completely that by the time Kenma blinks the pixels out of his eyes the sun is already rising over the horizon and he realises he’d taken far too many periodic breaks to level up on his latest RPG.

 

Con number two: creative companies — especially tech ones — seem to go to great lengths trying to hire the weirdest people they can find in the vicinity. Well, he can’t really speak for his department — just having Yaku and Sugawara on the Financial vessel as VP and Manager respectively ensures a stable sail at all times, even when the waves are rough and their newly-recruited intern Yachi has the mental fortitude of a small kitten. They’re the type of people that keep glitches to a minimum, or the characters that fight the final boss with the most coordinated movements and well-informed strategies. Nevertheless, as indifferent he is to the comings-and-goings of the office, rumours about scandalous yet hilarious antics undertaken by the truly creative few are discussed at great lengths during lunch or coffee breaks -- so much that, against his will, Kenma ultimately becomes privy to them.

 

One example out of many: it’s common knowledge by now that Shouyou, a long-term intern at Human Resources and his long-time friend, has been pissing off the prodigy recruitment Kageyama at R&D for being on his case all the time, mocking him for his allegedly horrendous GPA back in university even though it’s clear to many that the boy’s been bestowed with god-given research talents. Knowing how painful Shouyou’s incessant tormenting can be, at first Kenma can’t help but feel kind of sorry for the Kageyama kid. At the tender age of twenty-two, he doesn’t deserve to be subjected to middle-school taunts. But once word gets round that Kageyama has taken Shouyou out to get shit-faced drunk in revenge and left him without a ride at the bar, Kenma doesn’t feel all that bad for him anymore.

 

“Listen, Oikawa’s taking everyone out for a company dinner on Wednesday at this new ramen place everyone’s been raving about."

 

Con number three.

 

It’s an hour and a half past working hours on a slow Monday morning, and Kuroo has taken the liberty to saunter into the Finance department and become a part of Kenma’s overtime entourage. How Kuroo manages to have free time while maintaining his VP position in a tech company as busy as theirs is nothing short of a miracle — unfortunately, this means Kenma’s stuck with Kuroo hovering over him for the next several hours it would take for Kenma to turn in his pending assignment.

 

Reluctantly, he peels himself away from the financial spreadsheet he’s working on. “Oh, I think Shouyou mentioned it.”

 

“Shouyou?"

 

“Yeah, my friend. The intern they’ve got at HR."

 

This seems to pique Kuroo’s interest greatly as he stops typing on his phone to stare at Kenma, his usually soporific gaze lit up in curiosity. “Your friend? An intern?"

 

Kenma gives him a contemptuous look of his own. “Why do you sound like you’re surprised that I’ve got a friend here?"

 

“I said no such thing,” Kuroo says with a hand on his chest, feigning hurt.

 

“You looked like you _were_ surprised, though."

 

“I’m just surprised that I haven’t heard of him. I’m supposed to be the guy who knows everyone, you see. Plus, it’s about time someone takes over my babysitting duties, right?”

 

And it’s true. While being in charge of Key Accounts _does_ give Kuroo a larger scope for connections, he’s also not the type to leave anyone sitting alone, staff or manager; even when said person deliberately sits in the farthest corner of the room to avoid small talk. It was how the pair first kicked off their friendship after all.

Kuroo shoves Kenma playfully, making his fingers slip on his keyboard. He groans at the _payrojk_ now on his screen. “Stop, you’re annoying."

 

Of course, Kenma doesn’t really mean it and Kuroo knows this very well, meaning Kuroo's mild aggravation is warranted. He swivels in his chair to face his friend and leans in closer. “So he’s your age?"

 

“A year younger, but he only recently joined. He told me something about getting held back for a while because he couldn’t finish his thesis."

 

“What did he major in?"

 

Kenma stops typing, looks up at the ceiling as if trying to pull out his memory from the cream-coloured plaster. “Phys Ed, I think.’

 

“Phys… Ed…” Kuroo repeats slowly, voice dripping with skepticism. “And... he landed an internship for HR… at a _tech company_."

 

“Diversity?” shrugs Kenma. “He’s not bad. Great, even."

 

“Hmm. Okay, I trust your judgement."

 

“Anyway, what was it about Oikawa and ramen?"

 

“Oh, right. You threw me off track again.” Kuroo busies himself with the screen of his phone again. "Nishinoya’s old mentor from Miyagi now runs it, and they’ve been making mad changes to the place. For the better. There are even online discussion threads trying to guess what they put in their ramen because it’s _that_ good. They also make some to-die-for pork buns, so Tanaka’s been begging people to try it out. ‘Course, Oikawa _has_ to play fairy godmother and invite _everyone_ for a dinner."

 

“A company dinner, hm,” Kenma hums, valiant in his efforts to maintain his nonchalance as opposed to outright whine about it, crying out _not again!_ “The entire office?"

 

“Well, not the _entire_ office, but a… large majority of it.” Which is just a paraphrase of _‘everyone except the janitors and the bitchy receptionist Oikawa’s been having a life-long feud with.'_

 

Out of respect for Kuroo’s effort Kenma decides to drag it out, giving a contemplative noise. “Why Wednesday?"

 

“Beats me."

 

And just like the previous fifty-something times, Kenma says, “No thanks, I think I’ll pass."

 

Kuroo visibly deflates. “You’ve never gone once in the three years you’ve been here. Why not give it a try? Meeting new people is fun, you know."

 

“Not really. Maybe for you.” Kenma ties his hair into a small ponytail, trying his best to concentrate and take his mind off the guilt entrenching in his gut.

 

“But —"

 

“ _I don’t want to,_ Kuroo."

 

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Kuroo challenges. “What are you so afraid of?"

 

“A lot of things,” comes Kenma’s clipped reply.

 

“See? You can’t even give me a proper response.” By now, Kenma has refocused his attention back to the task that is due very, _very_ soon. The distraction is starting to irk him more than it should.

 

“Don’t you have someone else to annoy?"

 

“No, because everyone I know is going to the company dinner.”

 

Kenma places two fingers on his temple. “Why are you so obsessed with it?"

 

“Because it’s one of the biggest perks of working for this company and having Oikawa in a good mood, but my best friend is missing out on it! The scale of injustice is horrifying!” Clasped hands are thrust into Kenma’s face, a gesture of desperation Kenma rarely sees Kuroo do even for a joke. “If you come with me this time, I won’t ask you again.”

 

“Yeah, that won’t work.”

 

There’s a split second in which Kuroo seems about to reach out for Kenma’s hand, but retracts it quickly when he realises what he’s doing. Kenma doesn’t point it out, distracted by Kuroo’s imploring eyes. “Then do it for _me._ Just this once.”

 

The look Kenma sends him is borderline homicidal. “ _For you?_ "

 

Kuroo quickly backtracks. “Okay, forget I ever said that. Do it for yourself. Think of it as… you know, meeting more Shouyous, or people even better than him."

 

“Are you kidding me? That’s a dreadful prospect.” Kenma snorts, appalled, but it does make him stop to think.

 

It’s unfair. Kenma is under no obligation to appease Kuroo’s whims or prove that he doesn’t need anymore friends, anyone else to give up time for; because he has Kuroo — who, despite his irritatingly big talk and his tendency to traipse around on a cloud of nonchalant confidence, does not mind giving up _his_ coffee breaks to grab lunch with Kenma, who texts him more frequently than his own mother does, and who holds Kenma by the hand (figuratively, of course) through the turbulence of his demanding job even when he can’t reciprocate the gesture.

 

Kuroo is right. There’s no harm in trying, unless Kenma goes haywire and makes a complete fool of himself. Kenma closes his eyes, thinks about the game he’s got loaded up on his PC at home and says, “Fine."

 

“I know you’re fine, I just think a change of scenery would do you some  —"

 

“I meant fine I’ll go.”

 

Kuroo’s out of his seat in a flash. “Seriously?”

 

He interrupts Kuroo’s excited squealing with a hand to his forehead. “Yes. Now let me get on with my work before I change my mind.”

 

That’s cue for Kuroo to drop the subject. He does, thankfully, but without reaching over to punch Kenma lightly on his shoulder with a wide smile.

 

“You won’t regret it —"

 

“Yeah, yeah, sure."

 

That’s alright, though. Kenma would gladly take twenty of those punches to see the grin on Kuroo’s face that looks a lot like pride.

 

 

*

 

 

Con number four: somehow, the days leading up to the dreaded (at least on Kenma’s part) company dinners seem to fly by.

 

To Kenma, it feels like only two hours have passed since he was stressing over his assignment in the empty room of the Finance department with only Kuroo’s ostentatious persistence and a sad box of Pocky as company. Now it’s a clear Wednesday night and he’s sitting in a crowded room nestled at the back of the restaurant with more people than his mind can keep track of. Bodies are being jostled out of the way, bumping into each other and the heat is slightly suffocating for him. The table is strewn with abandoned chopsticks, half-empty cups and even emptier beer bottles as plates upon plates of food come and go, the smell of spices and alcohol a nauseating combination that makes Kenma feel deprived of oxgen. The service seems to go on forever, he thinks as another large serving of steamed buns is being placed on the table. Kenma’s starting to fidget more than usual. While he usually doesn’t mind his co-workers’ antics at all during the day, several generous doses of rowdiness have blighted the crowd, courtesy of the exposure to free alcohol.

 

That and, apparently, Kenma’s mere presence.

 

"God, Kenma, showing up out of the blue like that, _”_ Yamamoto bellows for at least the twelfth time that night, and Kenma is hit with a sudden feeling of gratitude that he didn’t end up working in the Key Accounts department. “You have no — fucking — idea — what a blower that is. And by that, I mean it's _one hell of a blower_."

 

“Well, I mean, what else was I supposed to do, sneak in from the back?” Kenma mutters, but it’s lost between Yamamoto’s tirade.

 

"Like, it’s probably up there with Azumane’s naked Jesus cosplay picture Nishinoya accidentally attached to his client report!”

 

Half the table erupts in laughter while Kenma feels partly guilty for the terrorised look on Asahi’s face at the mention of the almost-forgotten blunder. His palm is turning sweaty, and he tried to hide it by curling his fingers even tighter around his still-full cup of beverage.

 

“Quit calling your senior by his first name, ya yankee!” Tanaka slaps him on the back of his head, almost spilling his sake in the process.

 

“Kenma’s not my senior! Though on second thought, tonight might actually trump that Jesus incident —"

 

“Who wants to top-up?"

 

“— but there’s also that time when Oikawa posted an essay about Geniuses vs Hardworkers which was _totally_ his way of throwing Kageyama the prodigy shade…"

 

Sitting in a seat close to the corner of the room, Kenma had hoped, prior to arriving, that he’d be able to remain a wallflower for much of the dinner, only conversing with Kuroo, Shouyou and maybe a few people from his own department. But with Shouyou preoccupied with none other than Kageyama from R&D and Kuroo running late from his meeting with a client, his presence unfortunately becomes the hot topic of conversation around the table. Meaning Kenma is now in the limelight and has no choice but to bear the brunt of the crowd’s conversations, albeit grudgingly.

 

“But really, Kenma-san!” Speak of the devil, Shouyou clambers over a couple of people as he leans closer to Kenma. It’s endearing how even after several years of solid friendship Shouyou still insists on calling Kenma with an honorific attached, and Kenma doesn’t mind it as long as it makes him happy. “When I saw you in the doorway, I choked fifteen times! I almost died from shock!"

 

“Don’t exaggerate, Shouyou,” replies Kenma, smiling slightly.

 

“What made you come today? Don’t tell me it’s because Oikawa-san blackmailed you!” Shouyou scoots closer, whispering in a conspiratorial tone. “If we team up, maybe we can blackmail him back with something else… I don’t really know what but we can think of something…"

 

“No, he didn’t do anything like that. I don’t know… I guess I felt like trying something different.” And Kenma finds that it’s not exactly a lie, either.

 

“But it’s not fair, Kenma-san. I’ve been trying to get you to come to these things ever since I joined,” _which is a grand total of three times_ , Kenma wants to add, but seeing the pout on Shouyou's face he decides otherwise. “But you always make up some kind of excuse — like wanting to play a new game, watching the premiere of a movie, sleeping —"

 

“ _Sleeping!”_ Inuoka almost chokes on his drink.

 

 _“_ And there was that one time you actually _ran away_ while we were walking to the restaurant! I turned around for two seconds to look for my phone in my bag and when I looked up, you were speed-walking back to the office!"

 

The room burst out in another round of rambunctious laughter and Kenma joins with a chuckle, even though the noise is starting to make his head pound and his eyes to go a little bleary. Impervious to the humour in his narration, Shouyou frowns at his cackling co-workers, nonplussed. Somewhere to his right, Sawamura, the usually calm but stern VP of Research & Development waves his empty glass in a gesture close to anger.

 

“This beer is nearly out — hey! Hey, where’s Oikawa?” Sawamura calls out.

 

“Yeah, where _is_ Oikawa?"

 

He lazily turns around to find Kuroo shrugging off his coat with an anticipatory grin on his face. Kenma pointedly ignores the warm, relieved feeling seeping into his skin.

 

“Dunno, said he was going to sort some things out with the owner of the restaurant. Probably sweet-talking her into letting us use the place a bit longer than planned,” explains Yaku through a mouthful of rice. “Why don’t you take a seat? You’re late enough as it is."

 

Kuroo looks around, catches Kenma’s eyes and proceed to poke at Yamamoto with a purposeful movement of his foot. “Move over a seat, Yamamoto, I need to eat all this food."

 

“But I’m doing the barbecue!"

 

“Then let me do it,” Kuroo says, effectively shooting down Yamamoto’s protests. Kenma gives him a thankful nod in return for his trouble.

 

Once Yamamoto has shifted — not without a string of grumbles and complaints — Kenma retrieves his chopsticks again and attempts to resume his eating. “There are plenty of other seats, you know."

 

“Well, I want to sit here.” There’s a pout on Kuroo’s lips as Kenma busies himself with the bowl in front of him. “I don’t even get a hi?"

 

“Hi, slowcoach. Or were you trying to appear fashionably late? I think that trend is over now."

 

“Sorry, the client we had was more of a handful than we thought,” sighs Kuroo in a resigned manner, but he immediately diverts his attention to Kenma’s face, inspecting him closely. “What do you think of the company dinner so far? You weren’t looking too good."

 

Kenma shrugs. “It’s not bad, really. I sort of regret coming in as everyone was getting settled though. I should have sneaked in when the drinks were being served,” he admits sourly. “They talked about me being here for half an hour straight."

 

“Only half an hour? I’m disappointed."

 

“Not pleasant when you’re the subject of the gossip,” says Kenma with a shake of his head. “Once it starts, though, everyone starts to talk all at once. It’s… amusing."

 

“Have you had any to drink?"

 

Kenma gestures at the cup on his left, still brimming with its clear contents. “A little."

 

“Obviously not enough, when you’re still jittery like that.”

 

Bowls of hot, steaming ramen are placed on the table, and in an instant everyone’s grabbing their chopsticks and shoving others out of the way, eager to get their hands on the (true) main star of the night. Kuroo joins in, his hands quick and his mouth even quicker at churning out cusses left and right while Kenma simply leans back to watch. People-watching is a coveted pastime of his, after all.

 

 

*

 

 

Kenma has lost track of time. His phone is buried within his work bag somewhere in the corner of the room so he doesn’t bother checking, merely estimating how late it is into the night by the pace at which the crowd is dissipating, waving their goodbyes and laughing inebriated laughs, loud and uninhibited.

 

Just as Kenma’s about to pack up to leave, a hand catches his wrist.

 

“What is it, Kuroo?” It’s fair to say that his best friend has had a little more than enough to drink, and currently has his head on the table -- whether in exhaustion or simple bliss, Kenma can’t really tell.

 

“Stay a little longer.”

 

Kenma’s not going to lie, he has eventually relinquished to the coaxing of his co-workers and downed a couple of glasses of sake himself, maybe three. He’s feeling more than a little agreeable and puts up no resistance to Kuroo’s request.

 

“Okay,” Kenma shrugs, not missing the pleased look on Kuroo’s face. “Why, though?"

 

Kuroo doesn’t reply, instead tossing back the last of his glassful, head cradled on his palm and a flush high on his cheeks. Kenma wonders whether he’d look that good when rosy.

 

Ah. It must be the alcohol talking.

 

“So,” Kuroo drawls, grinning at him sideways. “Whatcha think?"

 

“Of?"

 

He makes a vague gesture around the empty room, almost toppling. “This. Whole thing. Night. Did you like tonight?"

 

“Better than expected, yeah.” He twirls the glass in his hand. A shadow falls on the cream-coloured surface of the table.

 

“Good. I’m glad.” Kuroo is now a lot closer to Kenma, leaning in with a smile so genuine Kenma has to double-check that he’s actually pretty smashed. “I’m happy when you’re happy."

 

“Oh, shut it.” Kenma might be tipsy, but he still has his shame intact. “Don’t say those things so carelessly."

 

“You know, I only told you to stay because —“ A chuckle. “Because I want to — spend more time — with you."

 

Turning around, Kenma locks onto Kuroo’s unfocused gaze. “I know."

 

“No, you don’t,” retorts Kuroo petulantly. “You don’t know."

 

“But… you just… told me."

 

“ _Why._ You don’t know _why_."

 

“Then tell me,” prods Kenma, in the mood for one of Kuroo’s wisecracks. “Let me guess. You want to gossip about the client you just met?"

 

“Nope,” Kuroo replies with a shake of his head. The dim lighting of the rooms casts an almost halo-like glow around his rumpled matt of black, and the sight has Kenma slightly mesmerised. “Guess again."

 

“Brainstorm for your next inspirational team speech?"

 

“Here? In this restaurant? No! You’re doing this on purpose,” Kuroo pouts. “You actually — do know why. But you're not saying it."

 

Kenma laughs in disbelief. “I really don’t, Kuro. You think I’m lying?"

 

“Well. You should. Ha! I thought it was obvious."

 

“What was?"

 

Kuroo sets the glass down, places his head on his right palm to face Kenma with a tilt of his head.

 

“That I like you.”

 

Suddenly Kenma is completely sober. Kuroo’s words hit him like a bucket of ice water, snapping him out of his snug stupor and into the frosty plains of reality.  “What?” Kenma asks slowly, not comprehending and needing time to just make sense of —

 

“I said I like you.” repeats Kuroo, his eyes unfocused. “And I thought you’d know… by now…"

 

“You’re drunk,” declares Kenma resolutely. “You don’t know what you’re talking about."

 

Kuroo shoots him a look so plaintive Kenma has half a mind to offer him another glass to erase the look — but he’d rather his best friend not die of alcohol poisoning. At least, not before he’s got this whole mess sorted out.

 

“I swear I do!"

 

“Saying that just makes it even less believable,” Kenma grouses, the panic subsiding though he’s now very much awake, fully shocked out of his drunken bliss. “You always say strange things when you’re wasted."

 

“This — is strange?"

 

“Very.” Kenma reaches for his bag, pulls out a couple of notes to tip the waiters. “I think you’re forgetting that we still have work tomorrow. Let’s go."

 

“So you don’t know,” mutters Kuroo in a grave tone so low that Kenma misses it in his haste to gather their belongings and pull Kuroo up. “It’s been a long time — and you still — haven’t noticed anything…"

 

“We need to get you home,” Kenma unknowingly interrupts him.

 

He’s strangely silent the entire ride home, but Kenma doesn’t turn his head to take a peek at his face. It’s only when Kuroo head meets Kenma’s shoulder does he realise his best friend has fallen fast asleep.

 

There are pros and cons of working at a creative company.

 

Kenma is starting to think that these dinners is surely the biggest one of them all.

 

 

*

 

 

Of course, there are things that Kenma likes about his job. They’ve never asked him to dye his hair back to black, for one — something he lamented about when Kuroo first suggested he apply for a position. In fact, there are many people with stranger hair than him; Nishinoya is infamous for either fascinating and startling people with his tuft of orange hair that he proudly wears to every meeting with the sales team; Yamamoto has been mistaken as part of a motorcycle gang more than once by security with his wild mohawk and Bokuto never loses the spotlight with his styled silvery tips.

 

The place itself is also a plus. As Nekoma Inc. adopts an open-space concept, the entire office is laid out to make employees as comfortable as possible — in the middle of his department’s area sits three enormous, plush sofas designed for ‘chilling’. While the big, open area does encourage socialising, it also makes it easier for Kenma to stay out of sight while everyone is too busy trying to relieve stress in the form of whining and rolling around in velvety, plush cushions.

 

But by far, Kenma’s favourite part is that everyone’s abilities are appreciated, and they’re not bound to a stiff hierarchy of roles that would restrict them to one set of tasks, one type of job and an entire lifetime’s worth of boredom. With such a diverse pool of staff, many people end up doing small tasks on the side every now and then. With the skills he has picked up from years of fascination by computers and game consoles, Kenma has volunteered to help out with the IT department since the new staff they hired over the summer — some half-Russian fresh-graduate that they plucked off the streets, probably — is absolutely nuts and can’t code for his life despite both Asahi and Shimizu’s patient teaching. Kenma doesn’t usually go out of his way to do unpaid work but he feels bad for the IT department; they’ve been awfully understaffed for nearly half a year, and the one time they try to recruit someone it just _has_ to be someone horrendously incompetent.

 

And that is how he finds himself standing in the doorway of Kuroo's department area at eight-thirty on a cloudy, dreary Thursday morning.

 

“Hey, Kenma. Do you need something or are you just here to see me?"

 

On a normal day, Kenma would turn around and walk back the way he came and leave Kuroo’s laptop in ruins. But Kuroo is also his best friend, and from the way his eyebrows are knitting together he knows the joke must have taken a lot of effort to formulate with the splitting headache his hangover is sure to be giving him at the moment.

 

Kenma winces as Kuroo shuts his eyes, a palm on his temple. “You look horrible,” he points out.

 

Kuroo groans. “I feel like it, too.”

 

With the events of the company dinner fresh in his mind, Kenma waits for a while, expectant. But there’s nothing in Kuroo’s body language that indicates further elaboration. There is no inner war being waged, no threat of ‘ _we need to talk’_ at the tip of his tongue. So Kenma reaches a verdict: that Kuroo was really, truly smashed last night and had no idea what he was talking about.

 

That’s fine.

 

Kenma walks slowly towards Kuroo’s large space in the front corner of the room where he’s looming over his desk in his lonesome. None of his co-workers have arrived yet, which Kenma is thankful for.

He takes a look at Kuroo’s computer screen and recoils when an offending shade of blue greets him It’s far too early in the morning for this, he thinks as he sighs mournfully. "Is it acting up again?"

 

“Yeah,” Kuroo stretches, then runs a hand through his already messy hair. The contrast between his hairstyle and immaculately pressed suit-and-tie ensemble is magnificent, and Kenma wonders as he so often does how his friend manages to pull the look off without looking like a sleazy lazyass. “I forgot to turn it off properly last night, but it’s 2015. You would think computers have learnt how to go to bed independently by now."

 

Something heavy drapes over his back just as he’s seating himself in Kuroo’s plush chair, followed by a long whine close to his ear that it almost tickles. Kenma freezes. While Kuroo’s rather touchy disposition is nothing new to him, their conversation last night magnifies every shift Kuroo makes, heats up the warmth of his body against Kenma’s by tenfold, and suddenly Kenma is hyperaware of his best friend’s every move.

 

_I like you._

 

“I doubt it’s because of that. What files did you open yesterday?” Kenma says as he clears his throat, trying to get back on track.

 

“Nothing, just some files our clients gave us in a hard drive,” mumbles Kuroo into his shoulder, lips moving just above his shirt, separated from the skin by the flimsy barrier that is his work shirt. It feels far too intimate that something in Kenma snaps and he pushes away from the table, hurriedly straightening up.

 

God, he hopes his face isn’t making any weird expressions right now. Kuroo’s got a knack for picking those out. “Maybe one of them is corrupted. Or has a virus. I’ll take a look at this after breakfast.”

 

“You haven’t eaten?” Reaching into his pocket, Kuroo pulls out his phone and waves it at Kenma, apparently oblivious to his minor flustering. “Want me to order something for delivery?"

 

“No, thanks. I’m sure I can find some leftovers in the pantry. Most places aren’t open yet anyway."

 

“What? Of course they’re open. It’s like, almost nine.” To Kenma’s surprise, Kuroo starts to unbutton his suit jacket and shrugs it off, throwing it over his chair in a sweeping motion. “Let me join you. I haven’t had anything myself."

 

Kenma rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie. You never leave home without breakfast.”

 

“Yeah, except when I wake up late with a hangover and only have time to brew a half-assed cup of coffee. Can’t a guy have an off-day once in a while?"

 

Kenma hesitates, following Kuroo out of the door. “You probably won’t like the leftovers."

 

“We’re eating out.” Kuroo declares with a tone that he probably uses with his assistant. He slings an arm easily over Kenma’s shoulders.

 

Kenma frowns. It’s just Kuroo’s arm, why is he worrying so much over it? “Let’s not. It’s too tiring,” he laments.

 

“Come on, the day has just begun! Your potential is limitless, don’t restrict yourself to a narrow strip of opportunity —"

 

“I like you better when you’re completely hungover.” That statement earns Kenma a loud chuckle and a shove on his side.

 

It’s always like this — Kuroo is always the one dragging him outside, getting Kenma to forget about work and games and obligations for a little while to spend some time enjoying himself. Kenma always argues that he’s enjoying himself just fine, but Kuroo points out all the tense knots in his shoulders and the frown on his face and decides that Kenma is a big fibber. It’s difficult to say no to Kuroo — not when he’s so genuine in his excitement and care, even if his lazy demeanour hides such intentions.  And now Kenma can’t help but wonder why. Why Kuroo insists on filling up the small slots of free time they have together with trips outside for lunch, or breakfast, or a snack; why he always somehow has ample time to lounge around Kenma’s cubicle after everyone else has left. Even Kenma has to admit that being around someone like him all the time must get awfully boring.

 

They end up hogging two window seats at a nearby Costa, Kenma munching on his almond croissant slowly as he listens to Kuroo complain — mainly about Bokuto’s sales strategies — between sips of his flat white in an attempt to nurse what is left of his hangover. With Kuroo and Bokuto being VPs of Key Accounts and Marketing respectively, it’s no surprise that the two departments work closely together; sometimes too close for comfort, Kuroo often jokes.

 

“I mean, everything has to go his way. And even though it’s a good source of motivation, it’s not a great mindset to have when you’re running a business — one that’s largely dependent on consumer satisfaction, at that.” He turns then, staring right at Kenma. "People are going to say no, turn your offers down, reject your advances.” His voice is eerily calm, and Kenma has a niggling feeling that he’s not just talking about situations in a working environment.

 

Out of curiosity, Kenma asks, “What would you do?"

 

Maybe Kenma’s just imagining it, but there seems to be a flash of surprise in Kuroo’s eyes. The moment passes, and the next second Kuroo is setting down his cup and staring at the ceiling contemplatively. “I'd need to be persistent, but subtle enough that my talk doesn’t become annoying. Hmm, I guess showing passion is good too — just enough to be enthusiastic but not desperate."

 

“Passion?”

 

“Yeah, for the product.” Kuroo says this slowly, like he’s reassuring himself more than anyone else. Kenma is unconvinced. “Bokuto probably has an excess of that, though. If his strategies don’t live up to his expectations, he spends the rest of the week, or even month, sulking and canceling more meetings. It’s funny at first, but it can also get irritating when you’re trying to get work done,” Kuroo sighs dramatically.  “The pain!"

 

“Then talk to him about it."

 

“You think I haven’t tried? Nothing gets to him, even the most rational person in the office can’t reason with him."

 

The napkin is out of Kenma’s reach. Kuroo notices and takes two from the pile, handing them to him. Kenma wipes his hand free of sticky bits of almond. “Who?"

 

“Akaashi, the Marketing director."

 

“Oh,” Kenma says, blinking. “Then he’s beyond help."

 

“Thank you.”

 

Their conversation is interrupted by a deliberate silence, in which Kuroo’s grip around his cup loosens. “Hey, is something bothering you?”

 

There it is again. As far as Kenma’s concerned, he’s not acting any differently than he would on one of their impromptu brunch trips, yet Kuroo is picking up anomalies faster than Kenma can think up of an excuse. After all, it doesn’t seem appropriate to break it to your friend that a confession had slipped out of his lips a few nights ago and to prod whether he was speaking the truth or not, no matter how unbreakable their friendship is. It just doesn’t seem to fit in well with the moral codes.

 

“No. Why?”

 

“I don’t know. You sort of look… distracted."

 

“Work’s been piling up, that’s all.” That excuse isn’t exactly a lie, and he’s relieved for that. Lying to Kuroo never sits well with Kenma.

 

A quick glance at his watch says he’s given himself too much of a break without any productivity to justify for it. Kenma signals to Kuroo that they should be going, and his friend nods in understanding.

 

Just before they walk out into the slightly windy streets, Kuroo says, “Next time, you pick a place."

 

This is easy, this is familiar. Kenma likes easy and familiar.

 

 

*

 

 

Kuroo shows up on Kenma’s doorstep on Sunday night with a new game in one hand, a plastic bag brimming with junk food in the other, and a proclamation that they should ‘spend a night acting like high school kids again.’ It’s strange, because Kuroo never met Kenma in high school and thus has never seen the kind of life he led back then, but he somehow gets everything spot-on — right down to the flavour of Kenma’s favourite soft drink and the brand of the best apple pie.

 

The game Kuroo picked turns out to be crap, and Kenma vaguely remembers having a financial analysis he’s supposed to complete by Monday morning, but his best friend must have sneaked in some cans of beer in the plastic bag somewhere because he’s far too relaxed to stress about it. He’s also still punching the buttons on the controller despite it being clearly a lost game, just to keep Kuroo’s hopes alive for a little while more. On a normal night, Kenma would have long turned the console off by now to opt for an old favourite game.

 

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Kenma doesn’t notice his character being swiped off his feet by a simple kick. Kuroo laughs out loud, and though Kenma doesn’t join in he revels in the sound and the warm presence of his best friend — an unspoken assurance; ‘ _Stop worrying so much.'_

 

And that’s it. There are no social cues to be self-conscious of, no fear of slipping up with words. Somehow, through ways Kenma can never dream of, Kuroo manages to translate his relaxed demeanour into the nature of their friendship so seamlessly that his presence becomes a far better stress-reliever than any game Kenma can think of. It’s a respite from the reminders of workplace obligations, assigned tasks from higher-ups and the sheer amount of _effort_ required to make decent conversations in between breaks.

 

Kenma would never say it out loud, but Kuroo makes everything so perfect it makes his chest hurt.

 

 

*

 

 

There’s one obvious con Kenma has forgotten to add to the list.

 

Stress.

 

A hysteric Oikawa has called him on his personal cell earlier that day, claiming that his computer has been sabotaged by rival firms to steal highly confidential corporate secrets. What sort of secrets the Human Resources department has about their new technological development, Kenma isn’t even aware of, so he knows he’s in for another story so far in its reaching it might as well have its hands in the depth of the Milky Way.

 

“I’m telling you, Kenma-chan, they made it so that even _I_ can’t open my own folders!"

 

It takes Kenma fifteen minutes of standing there listening to Oikawa’s wild interpretation of the situation before Iwaizumi interjects with a forceful swat at Oikawa’s head, effectively silencing his dramatic tirade. He tries checking the actual files before bending down to check Oikawa’s connection.

 

Turns out he’s got a cable unplugged.

 

To make matters worse, Oikawa sends him off with a dazzling smile and an armful of papers courtesy of the wage complaints filed through HR.

 

He only gets about thirty minutes in his chair with his assigned work open on a window before he gets called up by Yaku, his VP. By that time, Shouyou is already texting him and complaining that Lev — the half-Russian intern at IT — has flipped his screen upside down again, but Kenma regretfully turns down the cry for help in lieu of rushing over to his boss. For Yaku to be calling Kenma out to his room means it’s serious business. Usually he’d simply come round to Kenma’s spacey cubicle and talk to him in hushed tones, or barely suppressed excitement if he’s got 'Great News'.

 

If he’s expecting to have an amiable, quick conversation, he is sorely mistaken.

 

“I asked this spreadsheet to be completed over the weekend, Kozume.” Yaku stares at Kenma with an unwavering gaze. “It is not even half done."

 

“I couldn’t access the data over the weekend, and I had the cost analysis to give Sawamura-san for their new project due today as well.” Kenma doesn’t usually panic like this, but his nerves are frayed from the exhaustion. “I thought I could — I could push this back a little —“

 

“Surely you’re aware that we’re on the brink of securing another major deal, Kozume. I expect you to be able to handle more than two tasks at once.” Yaku sighs.

 

The interrogation eats up a good portion of Kenma’s (and Yaku’s) lunch break and leaves him feeling more than a little irate. If there’s anything Kenma hates, it’s being made to feel inadequate. It’s no surprise that he unintentionally catches the attention of a few people in the room when he closes Yaku’s door with more force than necessary and practically drags himself to his own space. Even though his cubicle is a lot bigger than what is considered normal office standards, it has never felt so suffocating now.

 

A pair of hands land on his shoulder, and Kenma jumps slightly to swivel around in his chair only to have his line of sight obstructed by Kuroo’s curious and only slightly, very slightly, concerned face.

 

“What happened in there? Sounded like intense nagging from Morisuke just then. Is our Kenma finally becoming a delinquent? Five years too late for that now, you know, it’s something kids do in high school."

 

“Kuro,” Kenma groans. He seldom calls Kuroo by his nickname during office hours, but with his nerves going haywire habit overrides rationality. “Leave me alone. Or make me coffee."

 

Kuroo raises an eyebrow and drops his hands. It’s only then that Kenma realises how much the warmth of Kuroo’s palms can calm him down. “I thought you were trying to cut down on caffeine."

 

“Emphasis on _trying_. Cheat days are allowed.”

 

At first Kuroo simply stares at him warily, seeming like he’s awfully conflicted before he places a concerned hand and murmurs in a soothing tone, pointing to the door, “Do you need to take a breather?”

 

From where he’s sitting, Kenma can see a couple of employees he doesn’t recognise smoking and laughing, carefree and without a worry for any deadlines sitting on their shoulders.

 

He shakes his head “I don’t deserve one. I need to finish all —   _this_ — first.“ To prove his point, Kenma presses the Alt and Tab keys with punctuated hatred, switching viciously between spreadsheets. Kuroo winces. “It’s fine, I’ll get this done. You should probably go if you don’t need anything."

 

“Hm? No, it’s fine,” Kuroo grins. “My boss is in a _confidential_ meeting that even I can’t hear about, so I’m free for the next hour or two."

 

“But I’ve got lots of work to do,” Kenma deadpans.

 

“Ah, fine, fine.” There’s a strange sense of relief in Kenma’s chest. _See?_ He tells himself. _Being straightforward with Kuroo isn’t a suicidal move. Maybe it’s alright to be frank about other things too._

 

“Hey, what time are you going to head home tonight?"

 

Kenma replies with a resigned sigh. “Probably won’t."

 

“Great! I’ll stay back with you. We can pull an all-nighter together."

 

“You don’t have to,” Kenma protests. “I know you’re busy with the new deal and everything."

 

“All the more reason to stay! It’s about time I properly sit down and get all the work piled up done and over with.” And, at Kenma’s doubtful expression, “Come on, who else would stop you from falling asleep?"

 

Without his permission, a smile coaxes itself onto Kenma’s lips, and at times like this he wonders why he worries about Kuroo — about _them_ — in the first place.

 

“We’re ordering take-out, then."

 

Looking like he’s been expecting the answer, Kuroo grins widely. “That’s more like it."

 

 

*

 

 

They end up walking to the nearby Chinese restaurant after work hours to bring back boxes full of stir fry and small bowls laden with soup. When they return to Kenma’s cubicle, the room is empty save for Sugawara, the Finance manager, who is in the middle of tidying up his space. When he spots them, Sugawara offers a wave and points at the plastic bags in their hands.

 

“Hey, Kenma, Tetsurou!” Sugawara has a habit of calling everyone in Nekoma Inc. by their first names, regardless of their position — Kenma finds it refreshing to hear.

 

“Hello, Suga-san. Heading home?”

 

“Yeah, taking all this paperwork with me, though, or else Yaku’s going to have my head for it.” He gestures at the stack of paper, then at the boxes Kuroo is arranging on Kenma's empty desk. "Are you having company over after office hours or…?”

 

“Just staying behind,” Kuroo replies. “He needs to submit a few things to Yaku before tomorrow, and I’ve got some deals I need to look over as well."

 

“Oh dear, guess we’re all busy then?” The smile on Sugawara’s face betrays nothing other than cordiality, but Kenma suspects that the question is specifically, 100%, directed at Kuroo.

 

“Yeah, mostly just keeping Kenma company though."

 

“Of course you are. I expected nothing less than you, Kuroo — you must be missing all those date nights because of how busy the office is right now!"

 

Kenma’s head snaps up. “Date… nights?"

 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Sugawara?” Kuroo’s voice is dangerously saccharine, dripping with threat.

 

Sugawara looks perplexed at his response, and is about to say something but catches a glimpse of Kuroo’s face and seems to decide otherwise. "You’re right! I’ve got to go,” Sugawara mumbles, glancing at his phone. "Hectic night ahead of me, as well."

 

Just as Sugawara’s walking out the door, “Not too rough tonight, Suga, we still need Sawamura sorting out HR tomorrow."

 

There’s a choking noise and a clang as Sugawara turns around, spluttering and awfully red in the face. “It’s — what — that’s, that’s not…"

 

“Run along now, you don’t want to be late,” Kuroo says sarcastically, waving a hand. Sugawara shoots him a look, but decides that it’s not worth picking a fight with Kuroo and decides to leave.

 

The sound of Sugawara’s disapproving muttering grows more distant. Making sure they’re alone in the room, Kenma sighs and turns to Kuroo. “That was unnecessary."

 

“It’s fun riling people up,” Kuroo chuckles, but it sounds a little restrained.

 

“What did he mean when he said da—”

 

"Hey, your intern won’t mind if I take over her desk, would she?”

 

Peeved at being cut off, Kenma looks over to see Kuroo pointing at Yachi’s desk. “No, she won’t. But I wouldn’t recommend doing that. She has everything sorted out and I don’t want you sabotaging it."

 

True to Kenma’s words, Yachi’s cubicle walls are peppered with colourful post-its arranged in regular rows, filled with font-like handwriting in a wide spectrum of colours — phone numbers, lists of tasks, deadline reminders and motivational quotes that puts even Bokuto’s marketing slogans to shame. On her desk, a stack of papers is pushed off to one side while a row of books line the wall to the left of her PC — is that a financial manual he sees? — and a small, cleared off corner is lavished with personal pictures that look like they were taken during her high school years.

 

“Don’t snoop,” Kenma breaks the silence. Kuroo gives a low whistle in reply.

 

“That’s some pretty obsessive organising. Very beautiful, but obsessive. Why would I sabotage it? You think so low of me, Kenma."

 

Kenma scoffs, switching on his PC and pulling a clear folder of signed contracts closer to him. He doesn’t entertain Kuroo’s question though, merely logging on and reaching into the plastic bag for his stir-fry. Soon, he’s settled comfortably in his chair and ready to start — or continue — his pending tasks.

 

Kuroo is immediately falling into step with him, taking his personal laptop out and occupying Yachi’s desk — carefully, of course. A few minutes later, Kenma can make out the sound of Kuroo’s electronica playlist playing. He gives an appreciative hum, so Kuroo turns the volume up a little higher. There’s just the right level of silence Kenma needs to be productive, but not fall asleep on his keyboards. Kenma sighs in contentment.

 

“Alright in there?"

 

“Mmm,” hums Kenma. “You?"

 

“As comfortable as an old shoe.”

 

“...I don’t think that’s an appropriate idiom to use.”

 

Kenma’s reminded again of Sugawara’s earlier blunder. _Date nights?_ And why did Kuroo cut him off so? Kuroo rarely interrupts Kenma when he’s talking. Kenma might be detached, but he certainly isn’t stupid, and even a five-year-old could piece this puzzle up with so many clues thrown at him. Something bubbles up in Kenma’s chest — something very similar to anticipation. When there is peace and order, his belief is to never, _ever_ disrupt it. There are enough people to do that job for him anyway.

 

Curiosity is a foreign sensation to him, though, and there is no one who could relieve it from him other than himself. All the gnawing at the fringes of his composure is getting unbearable. He really needs to talk to Kuroo. Just not now. Right now, he wants to marinate in the silence and comfort until every pore of his being is suffused with it.

 

When did he turn into such a sap?

 

 

*

 

 

The opportunity seems to present itself when Bokuto, seemingly unwilling to lose out to Oikawa’s infamously successful dinner party, sends out a mass invitation to a barbecue dinner he’s hosting. The promise of barbecue almost definitely guarantees a bigger turnout number — which of course makes Kenma recoil in near disgust. But he sucks it up and manages to ask Kuroo if he was coming.

 

To say that the prospect of Kenma attending completely voluntarily excites Kuroo is an understatement.

 

And that’s how the pair end up in a bigger, but even louder room with several rows of tables, sitting in the spaces closest to the wall — a position that allows their private conversation to remains private, but also for them to jump into the main conversation from time to time. It seems that the promise of sizzling meat has everyone brimming with uncontained energy, if the shouts and laughter are anything to go by. Meanwhile, Kenma assigns himself the task of making doubly sure to get Kuroo away from the liquor as long as possible. He needs Kuroo sober for this talk to go well.

 

“Hey, Kuro."

 

“Hey yourself,” Kuroo mumbles around a greasy chopstick, having swiped a piece of meat from Kai.

 

“You know that night when we went to Oikawa’s dinner party?"

 

“You mean the one _you_ went to? Of course,” he grins. “How can I forget? You were the star of it. Other than the ramen, of course"

 

Kenma ignores his joke. “Well I think you did forget. I mean, some parts of it."

 

Kuroo stops chewing, tilting his head in confusion. “What do you mean?"

 

“Do you really want to know?"

 

Kuroo scrunches his nose. “Did I insult Bokuto? Or puke on Oikawa’s designer suit? Is it something really bad? "

 

“No, no, and… not really something _bad_ , I guess. It depends."

 

“Okay, then. Enlighten me, for I am drenched in ignorance."

 

Even Kuroo’s exaggeration doesn’t deter Kenma as he ploughs on. “After everyone left, you told me to stay behind."

 

“Huh, vague recollections being pulled up here..."

 

“I mean, you were smashed so I wouldn’t expect you to remember anything. Plus it was kind of funny seeing you so drunk,” Kenma rambles and Kuroo awards his efforts with a playful shove.

 

“And then?"

 

“We talked for a bit, and it was fine. But then you started asking me things, and by the end you said…”

 

Kenma swallows, his throat suddenly drier than the burnt meat Kageyama is desperately trying to salvage from the grill.

 

“Hm? What did I say?"

 

Kenma churns out a laugh that is meant to sound nonchalant, but peters out as a nervous one instead. “You told me you liked me."

 

The clatter and white noise of the restaurant fades, and after what feels like eons to Kenma, Kuroo sets his glass down. “Did I?"

 

“You did," Kenma gives another (pathetic) chuckle. “Funny right?”

 

“You were drunk too, Kenma."

 

“Tipsy. Sober enough to know what I was hearing, at least.”

 

As Kenma watches a frown settles between Kuroo’s eyebrows, he know the flippant tone of the conversation has faded now; replaced by an atmosphere of suspense that makes the back of Kenma’s neck grow hot with embarrassment. If there’s a way he can keep himself from regretting bringing up this topic in the first place, it’s to push forward. “I just want to know if it’s true or not.”

 

Kuroo turns his head away to stare off into the distance. Kenma follows his gaze and sees Shimizu and Sawamura talking amiably under the heated glares of Nishinoya and Tanaka — in other words, nothing interesting, which can only mean Kuroo is deep in thought. Nervous, Kenma gulps down his water.

 

The moment Kuroo turns to him, it’s like the crowd dissipates into the background. Kenma’s hearing zones into Kuroo’s deep, reverberating voice when he says, with a taut grin that belies his uneasiness, “Yeah. It is. I do like you.”

 

Kenma doesn’t reply. Kuroo must have taken this as a bad sign, because he reaches out for the bottle of sake and pours himself a glass, laughing. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

 

He stares at Kuroo. “No it’s not.”

 

“Then why are you so quiet?”

 

“I just feel really bad about not believing you the first time. That’s an asshole move on my part.”

 

Kuroo snorts, but there’s a hint of relief in his body. “That’s what you’re worried about? Kenma, I don’t even remember it happening.”

 

“Still,” Kenma shrugs, feeling the tension uncoil from around him as well.

 

“So you love me.”

 

“ _Like._ Love is a strong word.”

 

“You like me.”

 

Kuroo groans, playing with the rice in his bowl. “Are you going to keep embarrassing me like this?”

 

“And then?” Kuroo gives him a questioning look, and Kenma continues. “Now what?”

 

“Were you expecting something? Do you want take you out on candlelit dinners and get you tickets on boat rides across the Seine now?"

 

Kenma makes a face. “Even characters in dating sims aren’t that corny."

 

Kuroo laughs. There’s a newfound affectionate expression on his face. “Nothing. That’s it.”

 

“That’s… it?” His voice is doubtful.

 

Kuroo frowns. “Why? You don’t believe me?”

 

“I believe you,” Kenma says with incessant small nods. “It’s just… I don’t really know how I feel about you yet, and I don’t want to half-ass anything — that is, if anything would even come out of it —"

 

“That’s exactly why I don’t want to pursue anything more.” He folds his arms across the table, locking onto Kenma’s gaze. “I don’t think anything should change. I might have loved you from the day you started working at the company, or I might have loved you much later than that. But believe me when I say nothing I do is out of my impatience to get into your pants."

 

“You want to get into my pants?” Kenma quirks an eyebrow.

 

“I mean, sure, I guess wanting _more_ kind of comes with the whole me liking you bit," Kuroo envelops Kenma’s palm in his, but there’s no ulterior motive behind it — it is merely a gesture of reassurance, and a thoroughly effective one at that. “Everything is great as it is now, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I just… I just want to be with you."

 

With that, the clutches of apprehension around Kenma’s chest is unfurled, and he feels like he can breathe properly again. There’s no helping the smile that stubbornly sits itself on Kenma’s lips, but there’s no need to, either.

 

“If you two lovebirds are quite done,” Bokuto’s booming voice announces the room, jolting both Kenma and Kuroo out of their seats. Embarrassingly, only now does Kenma notice that the entire room is watching them — that they’re even _present_ — with knowing glints in their eyes. “We’re about to toast to this awesome dinner that, of course, was arranged by me. Ho ho ho! Cheers!”

 

The sound of tinkling glass is followed by uproarious laughter that brings embarrassed flushes to both of their faces — and a playful threat sent Bokuto’s way, courtesy of Kuroo. Between the lively chatter that starts up once again, Kenma replies:

 

“I think that can work.”

 

Kenma thinks he has never said anything more appropriate.

 

-

 

“Yaku seriously needs to give you a raise. Look at all this work!"

 

“It’s nothing."

 

“Does he think there’s only one staff in the entire department? Did he keep all this work and dump it on you last-minute?"

 

“I’m doing just fine,” Kenma mumbles, between the stacks of paper monopolising his desk, where he is looking anything _but_ fine.

 

Despite it being the peak of winter, the office seems to be going into overdrive with everyone rushing to submit their tasks before their long, well-earned break — Kenma included. Having delivered his last presentation of the fiscal year, Kuroo takes it upon himself to lord over Kenma’s progress in case he needs an outlet (although Kenma just sighs and frowns a lot when he’s stressed), simultaneously ignoring the knowing glances Kenma’s co-workers throw in his direction. A few days ago, one of the staff had joked that Kuroo’s been kicked out of Key Accounts and transferred to Finance. The tips of Kenma’s ears had warmed at that but the prospect itself doesn’t displease him at all. In fact, it’s becoming more unnatural to see Kuroo _not_ loitering around Kenma’s cubicle, often annoying Sugawara and stealing packets of sugar from their pantry.

 

After a moment of silence filled with the clicking of keys and murmurs of phonecalls, long fingers envelop Kenma's shoulders in a warm grip and starts to massage his shoulders, pressing into all the knots with the right pressure and Kenma can’t help the satisfied hum he emits, long and content. There's a brush of lips on top of his head, soft and fleeting that the kiss almost goes unnoticed. He looks up to see Kuroo smiling down at him tenderly, and Kenma has the urge to shrink further into the seat and curl his arms around Kuroo's neck at the same time. 

 

“Better?"

 

“What would _really_ make me feel better is getting all my work done,” he groans.

 

By now, Kuroo’s learned enough to know that slipped in between all the complaining is a sincere ‘ _Thank you_ ’. He hesitates, before blurting out, "Can I kiss you?"

 

Kenma peers around the room. Seeing all his co-workers absorbed in their work, he shrugs — and that's enough for Kuroo to lean in and fit their lips together. Kenma sighs when Kuroo presses harder, letting his warm hand come up to Kenma's cheek to softly stroke it with a thumb. The slide of Kuroo's lips over his isn't foreign, but still sends a spark of excitement up his back.

 

Kenma thinks there's a snicker somewhere in the room, but he grabs the front of Kuroo's shirt when he leans back to part, lingering over his lips for a while.

 

"You've got work to do," Kuroo gently reminds him. Kenma nods silently. He can feel the warmth high on the top of his cheeks, and he can only pray that he looks just as good with a blush as Kuroo does. 

 

It’s easy, falling into step with Kuroo when the other has done nothing but kept up with his pace. The changes in Kuroo’s attitude are subtle and gradual enough that Kenma knows he isn’t just after the sex — hell, if that was true he’d have given up long ago. Not much between them has changed, not really; except the occasional skinship and Kuroo's open affections, as if a small layer of magnified fondness has been cast over their relationship. A layer in which lingering touches are now heavy with purpose instead of inklings of doubt; in which Kenma feels special because Kuroo’s perfunctory smile is no longer just a smile, it’s a smile _for him_ ; in which Kenma doesn’t need to fight the last of the barriers between them anymore, and can march forward without hesitation because Kuroo will always be waiting for him, always.

 

Soon the changes become habitual — easy and familiar. Kenma likes easy and familiar.

 

(And by default, he might, just a tiny little bit, like Kuroo too.)

 


End file.
